


Rose and Randal Make a Baby

by late_night_writer



Category: Askewniverse, Clerks. (1994)
Genre: 1990s, Angst, Does this even have a plot?, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, I don't know, Masturbation, One Shot, Pregnancy, Randal Graves is in love, Randal? in love?? impossible, Sexual Content, Swearing, The language in this is pretty strong just a warning, i've just been kicking this idea around since i watched the movie, lots of swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-07 06:29:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18405017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/late_night_writer/pseuds/late_night_writer
Summary: "You ever think about having kids?""Sometimes.""With me?""Randal, you ARE a kid."-Randal Graves should not be responsible for his own life, let alone someone else's. But he was bound to find himself in this situation someday—it just happened a lot sooner than he thought it would.





	Rose and Randal Make a Baby

**Author's Note:**

> I swore I would never write fanfiction again and look at me making myself a liar. Also can you tell I totally titled this after 'Zach and Miri Make a Porno'? Cause I did. I totally did.
> 
> Also, sorry if you find Rose and Randal's actions together a bit OOC for Randal--I've never seen Randal in love before so I took what I knew about him and made some guesses. Rose's name was also supposed to go unmentioned throughout the majority of the story (mostly because I couldn't think of her name while I was writing this), so that's why she's referred to by her pronouns and "Randal's girlfriend" mostly lol.

     “Hey.”

     This conversation starts on the bed in her apartment about five minutes after Randal has climaxed, and he’s still lying on his back staring at the ceiling. She has moved to the end of the bed, presumably to retrieve her clothes, but is sitting nude on the edge with her head turned back at him. He has already moved the thin undersheet of the bed over his groin, and has tucked his right hand behind his neck as he lounges in place.

     “I’m pretty sure I’m pregnant.”

     Randal’s eyes drift to her, his face expressionless. “Already, huh?” Granted it may have not been the best time to drop the news; right after having sex when he’d finished inside of her. “You one of those people that can tell right away?”

     She rolls her eyes. “No,” she says.

     “How sure are you?” he asks, moving his arm out from behind his head and pulling himself backward so his back rests against the headboard.

     “Positive pregnancy test sure.”

     So, it had happened a few months ago. He wonders if it had been the time they’d fucked behind the counter after locking up the video store. It was exhilarating; he’d stripped himself of his t-shirt and flannel and pulled his acid washed jeans down just past his hips. She’d kept her shirt on and mounted him and it didn’t even matter that he couldn’t see her tits. Dante and those two stoner fucks were right outside, and any one of them could walk by and see them going at it. She had her cold hands placed firm on his shoulders, his skin burning underneath her. She rocked his whole body back and forth, knocking the hat from the top of his head. The thrilling prospect of being caught was too much; he blew his load far earlier than he would’ve liked and almost ruined his favorite pair of jeans. Shit, that’d be a story to tell. ‘I fucked a girl behind the counter at the video store and got her pregnant’.

     “I’m only telling you so you’ll know,” she continues. “I’m gonna go down to the clinic in a couple days and get an abortion.” She tucks a lock of loose hair behind her ear.

     Randal is silent for a moment or so. “You ever think about having kids?”

     She adjusts her position on the bed, tilting her head at him. “Sometimes,” she answers.

     “With me?”

     She scoffs. “Randal, you _are_ a kid.”

     “I could be a dad.”

     “Honey, the first time we had sex you called me ‘Mom’. That doesn’t exactly scream someone who had a healthy relationship with their parents.”

     “Screw my parents,” he says. “I could do better than my dad.”

     “You work at a video store.”

     “And?”

     “And you don’t even show up on time most days, and when you’re supposed to be working you’re at the Quick Stop with Dante.”

     “Alright,” he says. “But do you want kids?”

     “Someday, yeah.”

     “What’s stopping you from doing it now?”

     “I’m twenty years old and a college student,” she says. “I’m not married, I live in an apartment, and I’m currently fucking the biggest slacker in the world who works at a video store for slave wages.”

     “I’m just saying if you wanna be a mom, be a mom.”

     “Are you trying to talk me out of having the abortion?” she asks. “Do you even want kids?”

     “No,” he says, making a face and shaking his head. “But I could have one if I wanted to.”

     “You’re being so weird about this,” she accuses. “I only _told_ you I’m pregnant so you’d know that I’m having an abortion. If you wanna like, pay for half of it, feel free.”

     "I’m just confused,” he says. “You say you wanna be a mom. You’re pregnant right now, and yet you wanna have an abortion. It’s like passing up an opportunity you’ve always wanted to have and hoping that one day you’ll get it again. But what if you never get it again? You can never be sure about anything in life.”

     She rises from the bed and reaches for her shirt which lay in a heap on the floor. “Do you want me to have the abortion or not? All this philosophical bullshit is pissing me off, Randal.”

     “Get the abortion if you wanna get it,” he says, resigning himself. “I don’t care.”

     “It sure _sounds_ like you care.”

     He doesn’t respond. She dresses in silence like she plans to leave, but it’s her apartment. Randal pushes himself off of the bed and pulls on his Hanes and jeans. He leaves the apartment and shoves a stick of gum in his mouth on the way home.

     His mom is asleep when he gets home. He tosses the wad of gum on the front pavement and lays across the couch when he gets inside. He thinks for a second that he should put in _Clash of the Titans_ , but he doesn’t get up from the couch. Somewhere in town there was a girl carrying around his DNA. Well, shit, he always knew it was a possibility. She never took any birth control and he never wore a condom.

     She used to come into the video store a lot. She liked _Star Wars_ , which was cool, but she was a customer, and all customers were assholes. He never charged her any late fees when she rented any good movies, and she had good taste. Usually he charged people late fees when he opened the store late. People would get pissed at him and he’d rip up their memberships, but she didn’t. She paid the late fees.

     They met officially when she came into the Quick Stop and looked around for a bit. Randal had been behind the counter talking to Dante and skimming a newspaper.

     “It takes skill to make a girl come,” Dante said.

     “I’m not disagreeing. I’m just saying every girl I’ve ever slept with came.”

     “Bullshit,” Dante said. “Half the girls you’ve slept with are lesbians now.”

     Randal shrugged. “Doesn’t mean they didn’t come.”

     She walked up to the counter and tossed down a Snickers and a bag of Lay’s. “Don’t you work next door?” she’d asked.

     “That’s my identical twin brother,” he answered, and flipped to the next page of the newspaper. “He likes to fuck girls who talk about him.”

     She scoffed, and said, “I bet you couldn’t make a girl come if you tried.”

     There was a moment where Dante and Randal were silent, Randal looking up from the paper before speaking again. “Clearly you haven’t asked around.”

     “Hardly any guys can make a girl come. I doubt you’re one of them.”

     “Women are just overly complicated,” Dante chimed in.

     “Making a girl come is the same as making a guy come,” she started. “You just have to rub the same spot for a little while and voilà. Orgasm. Rub the head on a guy’s dick and he’ll bust a nut in two minutes. You just gotta rub a girl’s clit and it’s the same. Most guys are just too stupid to figure it out.”

     “I bet I could make you come,” Randal had said.

     “I’d like to see you try,” she said. “I could make you come without even touching your cock. You’d be so goddamn hard you’d be _begging_ me to touch you.”

     “Is that a promise?”

     As it turned out, it was a promise. She paid for the chips and the chocolate and when Randal left the Quick Stop she was waiting outside the video store, leisurely snacking on her chips.

     “Well, come on,” she said, rolling up the bag of chips and wiping her fingers on her jeans. Randal unlocked the door and let her in only to lock the door again once they were inside. Less than five minutes later, from outside the store, the “stoner fucks” better known as Jay and Silent Bob, heard this coming from the video store:

     “ _Please_ fucking touch me, oh my _God_ , touch me, _please_!”

     Jay nodded, sage. “Sounds like the cock-smoker is getting fucked.” A brief pause. “Good for him.”

     Inside, Randal ejaculated less than a minute from when she ran her hands up and down his shaft. He had placed his hands firm against the floor, digging into the carpet with his fingernails. He gasped as his body shuddered and she merely looked on, smirking knowingly. He’d never begged a girl like that before; it was almost pathetic. Once he had regained the least bit of composure, she scooted over next to him, and held out her bag of Lay’s.

     “Here,” she said. “Have some chips.”

     After that she crossed his mind more often than he cared to admit. Most girls he screwed didn’t stick around, and their names quickly faded from memory before he moved on to whoever was next. At the time she announced her pregnancy, they’d been sleeping together for around seven months.

     Did he love her? We’ll give it a soft maybe.

     He gets off the couch. Puts _Clash of the Titans_ into the VCR.

     The next day he scrounges up enough money to pay for his half of the abortion and brings it to the apartment. She takes it and leaves for the clinic only to return half an hour later with the money in hand.

     “Here,” she says, thrusting the wad of cash in Randal’s direction.

     “What? Was is cheaper than that?”

     “I didn’t get the abortion,” she says. “I’m keeping the fucking kid.” She seems quite pissed off about it, too, particularly at Randal.

     “Was it something I said?”

     “It was _everything_ you said,” she shoots back. “Somehow, with your shitty little speech, you convinced me to stay on the path of early motherhood. So, congratulations! You’re gonna be a dad. You’re lucky I fucking like you so much.”

     It's September and she has school. Randal works most days at the video store where he spends most of his time trying his hardest not to work. While at the Quick Stop, she comes up in conversation.

     “How are you guys doing, anyway?” Dante asks.

     “I knocked her up,” Randal replies, nonchalant, turning the page in a porno magazine.

     “What?” Dante is flabbergasted.

     “Yeah, she’s like three months now. I swear her tits are already getting bigger.”

     “She didn’t get an abortion or anything?”

     “Hey man, she wanted to be a mom. Who am I to stop her?”

     “That’s right, man,” Jay says from across the store. “A woman’s body is her own fucking business.”

     “You can’t roll joints in here,” Dante calls to him.

     Jay holds up the joint, grins at the duo, and exits the store. Randal returns his attention to the magazine.

     “Man, I can’t stand those fucking junkies,” he says.

     “You’re twenty-two, what are you gonna do with a kid?” Dante asks, not allowing the subject to be changed.

     “Shit, show it _Star Wars_ movies,” he answers.

     Dante pauses for a moment. “God, I’m gonna have two assholes come wrangling in here everyday.”

     “You can bitch about it all you want, but it doesn’t disguise the fact that you’re envious of my situation,” Randal says this without looking up from the magazine.

     Veronica hadn’t wanted to patch things up when Dante had contacted her, and as it turned out, Caitlin hadn’t gotten over fucking a dead guy quite so easily. This left Dante single and off having one-night stands with whoever would take him.

     “Who would’ve thought that I’d be the one in a relationship with a kid on the way? It’s sort of ironic, isn’t it?” Randal rolls up the magazine and tosses it to the side.

     “God help the kid that has you for a father.”

     She stops by the video store to find it closed before wandering into the Quick Stop.

     “Hey Dante, how’s it going?” She greets.

     “Oh, don’t even get me started.” Dante rolls his eyes.

     She hops behind the counter to stand next to Randal. She has a blatant disregard for stuff like this; maybe that’s why she ended up with Randal, of all people.

     “So I hear you’re knocked up,” Dante says.

     “Yep,” she confirms. “One of the many hazards of liking cock.”

     “Didn’t want an abortion?”

     “Thought about it,” she admits. “ _Randal_ fucking talked me out of it.” She presses at Randal’s arm as she said his name.

     “ _You_ talked her out of it?” Dante turns his attention to Randal.

     “I did not talk her out of it,” Randal points out. “I merely pointed out that she shouldn’t do it on my account.”

     “It sure as hell sounded like you were trying to talk me out of it.”

     “Hey, you wanna go fuck in the back?” Randal addresses his girlfriend, effectively ending the current conversation.

     “ _Randal_!”

     She shrugs. “Alright.” She hopped back over the counter. “I’m already pregnant. What’s the worst that could happen?”

     “ _Jesus_ , Randal! People could come in here!”

     “And?” Randal hops the counter to follow his girlfriend.

     “Oh, my God,” Dante says under his breath, shaking his head.

     When they’ve gone through the back door, Randal hoists her onto his hips and pushes her against the wall. They don’t undress so much as they simply move their clothes out of the way. She runs her hands under his ball cap and knocks it from his head so she can run her hands through his hair.

     “God, I want you so bad,” she says, breathing the words into his ear in a desperate whisper.

     “Well, you can have me.”

     He’s gotten good at rubbing circles into her clit while they fuck. She squeezes her thighs tight against his hips and rocks against him. He works his arms underneath her knees and presses his hands against the wall behind her. She has one hand clasped on the back of his neck and the other underneath his shirt, running up and down his chest.

     “Oh, God, keep going. Keep going.”

     “ _Fuck_ ,” he swears, and shuts his eyes tight. He thrusts into her a few more times and comes. Afterwards he presses his thumb to her clit and finishes her off.

     She kisses his lips. Once. Twice. Then three more times. Then she laughs, and ruffles the top of his hair. “You’re really fucking cute,” she says.

     “Thanks,” he says. He lets her down. They reposition their clothes and re-enter the Quick Stop.

     Dante has to work on Halloween, and Randal shows up late as always. She stops by to chat with them, looking more visibly pregnant at that point.

     “Not dressed up for Halloween?” she asks when she spots the two behind the counter.

     “It’s childish,” Dante states.

     “It doesn’t have to be. I like it; you can be anyone you want on Halloween. I could stop being a broke-ass pregnant college student and be Spider-Man for a day.”

     “You could be someone who didn’t fuck Randal.”

     She shakes her head and frowns. “Nah, I wouldn’t take that back,” she says. “If I was Spider-Man I’d be the first Spider-Man to fuck Randal Graves.”

     “Not an ounce of regret in this one,” Dante says.

     “Yeah, unlike all the girls you’ve fucked.” There’s not a beat of hesitation when Randal says this.

     “Anyway, look at this,” she says and raises her sweater so her stomach is showing. “Look at that shit, Randal.” She brings a hand to her stomach and runs a circle around it.

     “Jesus,” he says, and reaches for it over the counter. “There’s actually something in there.”

     “No shit,” she says. “Looks like one of those chestbursters is gonna come popping out.”

     It looks almost as if she’s swallowed a lemon whole and it’s still resting comfortably in her stomach.

     “Shit, if you were gonna knock me up you should've done it the first time we had sex. I could look more like a pumpkin for Halloween.”

     It’s mid-November. They’re lying in her bed at night, huddled under the sheets, their breath clouds in the air.

     “I was thinking,” she says.

     “About what?” he says.

     “I don’t really know anything about you.” She pulls the sheet tight around her body. “We’ve been sleeping together for ten months and I barely know you. I mean, I’m pregnant with your baby and I don’t even know your middle name.”

     “It’s Allan,” he says.

     “Okay. That’s a good start. Mine is Ann.” She props her head up on her elbow. “Randal Allan. What else?”

     “I mean, what don’t you know?” Randal shifts his position on his bed so he can face her.

     “Everything,” she says, and laughs. “I mean, I know that you work at a video store. I know your best friend is Dante Hicks, and that you’ve been friends practically since you left the womb… I know you like _Star Wars_.” Rose reaches out and pokes Randal’s chest, smiling. “Um, I know you hate The Time, and those two stoner guys that hang out outside the Quick Stop.”

     “So you know _some_ things.”

     “Yeah, but anyone who goes into the Quick Stop can figure that out,” she says. “I wanna know you better than some annoying customer does.”

     “You’ve gotta have picked up more than _that_ ,” Randal says. “What else? What do you know?”

     “Well…” she says. “I _think_ you have a bad relationship with your dad.”

     “He’s done nothing but drink, lay in his Lay-Z-Boy, watch TV, and yell at me for twenty years,” Randal says. “He might as well be dead.”

     “Okay, so I was right about that,” Rose says, and gives a singular nod. “What about your mom? I have a feeling your relationship with her isn’t really normal.”

     “She used to smoke weed all the time before she switched to coke, and she’d drop me off at my grandmother’s for weeks at a time and I never knew when she was coming back.”

     “Okay,” Rose says, keeping her voice calm and even. “Were you ever worried that she wouldn’t come back?”

     “Yeah, all the time,” he says. “I used to sit out on the porch and wait for her to come back. My grandma couldn’t stand that. She’d lean out the door and yell at me, ‘Come inside, quit sitting out there like a goddamn porch monkey!’”

     “She called you a porch monkey?” Rose’s eyebrows shot up her forehead. “Why would she call you a porch monkey?”

     “I dunno, cause I hung out on the porch?”

     “Honey, porch monkey is a racial slur,” Rose says.

     “It is?”

     “Yeah.” Rose adjusts her position on the bed. “So your mom would leave you alone with your racist grandma while she was out looking for drugs?”

     “Yeah.”

     “Do you think that like, affected you in any way?”

     Randal shrugs. “I don’t think so,” he says. “I don’t really think about it much anymore. It’s just something that happened to me now.”

     “Alright,” she says. “Thanks for telling me.”

     “Okay, so what about you?” he asks. “Let me guess. Your parents are actually crazy and live in the asylum a few towns over. They’ve gotta be way more fucked up than you.”

     She scoffs. “Are you kidding? My parents are the most boring people in the world.” She snuggles closer to Randal’s chest. “My dad’s a dentist and my mom’s a florist. They never once laid a hand on me the whole time I lived with them.”

     “I’d’ve killed for that.”

     “Alright, what else?” she asks. “Anything else you wanna know?”

     “Hmm,” he says. “What are you majoring in?”

     This gets her to laugh, and give Randal a light slap to the chest. “Psychology.”

     “So you’re gonna be a shrink?”

     “That’s the goal.”

     “You wanna pick my brain for practice?”

     “Well, given what I already knew about you and what you just told me, I’m pretty sure I’ve got a conclusion to what’s going on inside Randal’s head.”

     “Alright. Let’s hear it.”

     “Well,” she starts. “You’ve definitely developed a sense of cynicism for the world around you. That’s for sure. Your relationship with your dad is strained, and I think that’s produced a subconscious desire to not want to be a father yourself and repeat his mistakes. The relationship with your mom is a little more complicated. Male children tend to be more attached to their mothers, so her constantly leaving you with your grandmother must’ve been damaging on your little subconscious. When your mom came back, did you spend all your extra time with her? Watch her extra close to make sure she wouldn’t leave again?”

     Randal feels the back of his neck prickle. She’s right.

     “Your mom constantly leaving you really impacted you, whether you know it or not. You still live with her, don’t you? Maybe deep down you’re afraid she’s gonna leave you again, even though you’re not a little kid anymore. She’s affected every relationship you’ve ever had, including the one you have with me. What’s the longest you were with a girl before me?”

     “Three months.”

     “Okay! You’ve made progress there, that’s good. And you were always the one to end the relationships?”

     “Yeah, mostly.”

     “Do you think it was because you were afraid they’d end the relationship first? That they’d figuratively abandon you?”

     Randal says nothing.

     “I think that maybe you still need that mother figure in your life whether you know it or not. The first time we had sex—the first _real_ time, not the time I made you come in the back of the video store, I mean the first time you penetrated me—you called me ‘Mom’. I know people say weird shit during sex sometimes, and I’m not saying you wanna fuck your mom cause that’s weird, but I do think you’re looking for a sort of maternal figure in your life. And… well, you got me pregnant. I’m a mother now, even though the baby hasn’t been born yet, and even though it’s the same old me, I’m a maternal figure. I’m not _your_ maternal figure, but now I’ve got this motherly instinct about me and I think you find that comforting since your own mom was leaving you all the time when you were little. Okay… that’s what I’ve got. Am I close?”

     Randal only looks at her before shaking his head. “Bullshit,” he says.

     “What?” she asks.

     “How could you get all that from what I told you?” He shifts away from her, throwing the sheet from himself.

     “It’s what they teach you how to do,” she says, sitting up. “Where are you going?”

     “Home, to my mother. I have to make sure she didn’t abandon me while I was over here.” He pulls on his jeans before his t-shirt and flannel, and grabs his cap on his way to the door.

     “Randal,” she says, hurrying after him. “I didn’t mean to upset you. You asked me what I thought!”

     “Yeah, and you just… analyzed my whole life, thinking I have all these problems? What if I just live at home cause it’s cheaper? How do you know all this shit in my life is from some sort of trauma?”

     “I _don’t_ , it’s just simple psychoanalysis! Don’t leave, Randal, I didn’t mean to upset you!”

     Randal leaves anyway. He can’t help but think back to the night she told him she was pregnant, and how they’d argued before he left like he was leaving now. He chews at the wad of gum in his mouth until there’s nothing left but teeth marks and dull tastes.

     When he arrives home, he locks himself in his bedroom and sprawls across his bed, facing the ceiling. _Abandonment issues_ , he thinks. He fumes. Fuck, he’s so angry he can’t think. He grabs a magazine from under his bed, the one he saves for special occasions. He picks his favorite picture, sticks a hand down his Hanes, and can’t get a hard-on to save his life. He furrows his eyebrows, rubbing circles into the head of his cock with his thumb. He looks at the girl on the page, her nipples taut, her finger trailing along the edge of her open mouth… nothing. Fuck.

     He tosses the magazine aside and closes his eyes. Thinks of Rose. Rose, and her long dark hair, Rose and her swollen breasts, Rose and the way her body moves on top of his, Rose, Rose, Rose… his cock goes stiff in his hand, and he masturbates, calling out her name as he climaxes. He fumes a little less.

 _Abandonment issues_ , he thinks again.

     He sleeps on it. _Abandonment issues_. He dreams that he’s in Rose’s apartment, but she’s nowhere to be found. “Rose?” he calls. The apartment gives no answer. He checks the bedroom, expecting maybe for her to be lying on the bed, nude, waiting to seduce him. He finds only empty bedsheets. His heart rate picks up. “Rose?” he calls again. “Rose?” No response.

     He’s alone. Rose is gone.

     He wakes up sweating at five in the morning, his arms shaking. It takes a moment to come out of the fog of dreamland, and he realizes that Rose is still at her apartment. The relief that comes over him is both welcome and alarming. He’s attached now… that’s overwhelming. He can’t be in love, he can’t _need_ a girl this much.

     He finds himself at Rose’s door as she’s leaving for school, scaring her half to death.

     “ _Je_ -sus, Randal!” she says, her hand clasped to her chest. “God, what are you doing here?”

     “I think you might be right,” he says.

     “About what?” She’s still trying to regain her composure.

     “I don’t—” he starts, then sighs, pushing his way into the apartment. He shuts the door behind him. “Rose,” he says, and his voice is quiet.

     “What? What is it?”

     “I don’t know, I don’t know how to say it… I’m—I’m _scared_ —”

     “Scared of what?”

     He fumbles with his words. “I don’t, I can’t, I, I’m…” He stops to laugh at his own struggle. “God, this is so hard… I don’t want… I don’t want _you_ to leave me.”

     Rose pauses. “What?”

     “You. I don’t want _you_ to leave me. I think about a future without you in it, and I dreamt about it last night, and it fucking sucks. It scares the shit out of me and it makes my chest feel hollow. I’ve never met a girl like you before, and I don’t think I ever will again. Rose… I love you, and I don’t want you to leave me. Please don’t leave me.”

     Rose has her arms around him before he can react. She rubs between his shoulder blades and hugs him close to her.

     “Honey, I’m not gonna leave you,” she says. “I won’t leave you. I promise.” When she pulls away, she takes both his hands in hers and tugs at them. “Come here,” she says. She leads him to the couch. She falls onto her back, beckoning Randal to join her.

     “Aren’t you gonna be late for class?” he asks.

     “I don’t care,” she says, before pulling him down on top of her.

     They make love. It’s the first time it feels like more than just fucking.

     Did he love her? Well, it was more than a soft maybe at that point.

     “I’m telling you, it’s the craziest fucking thing that ever happened to me. I’m sitting there with the magazine and I can’t get off. I’m touching all the right places… nothing.”

     “Nothing? Not even the picture that looks like Cindy Crawford?” Dante asks.

     “Nothing. Then I started thinking about Rose.” Randal gestures over the top of his magazine. “Voilà. I get off to her, just thinking about her. Isn’t that something?”

     “For you? Definitely.” Dante rests his elbows on the counter. “Never heard of _you_ not being able to masturbate to porn before.”

     “I know. I think something’s wrong with me.” Randal snaps the magazine to straighten the drooping pages.

     “I think you’re in love,” Dante says matter-of-factly.

     “What? No.” Randal scoffs.

     “You’ve been with this girl for, pssh, what, almost a year now? And you’re saying you don’t love her?”

     “I impregnated her. My kid is gonna come sliding down the chute in two-and-a-half months, and I didn’t even want a kid in the first place. How do you know I’m staying with her for any reason other than moral obligation and the fact that I can go to her apartment and get laid right now?”

     “You could not get laid _right_ now.”

     “Could too,” Randal says. “You have no idea how much she wants me these days. She’s all over me whenever I’m around ‘cause her hormones are all crazy. I swear, I’ve never had so much sex in one week over my whole life. And I’m not complaining, either.”

     “Mm-hmm,” Dante says. “You love her.”

     “Come to whatever conclusion you want, pal. At least I’ve got someone who wants to fuck me.”

     Dante works most days when he’s scheduled to have a day off, though complains the entire time because “he’s not supposed to be there today”. Rose takes this opportunity to drop in on Dante and Randal.

     “Oh, wow,” Dante says when Rose strolls in. “I thought you were Caitlin there for a second. Then I saw the stomach…”

     “I know, right?” Rose rubs her hands around the sides of her belly. “I’m like a planet now. Counting down the goddamn days… seventy, in case you were wondering.”

     Randal pats his lap as Rose nears the counter. “Have a seat.”

     Rose leans onto Randal’s lap. “Hope I don’t squash you,” she says, and smiles at him. She turns to Dante. “Anyway, speaking of Caitlin, has she spoken yet?”

     Dante shakes his head. “Not a word.”

     “Damn. That really must’ve fucked her up, huh?” She spares Dante a sympathetic look. “What about Veronica?”

     “She returned one of my calls,” Dante says, and this seems to cheer him up. “She’s not with anyone right now, and she might consider trying to make things work… _if_ I take some classes at the college.”

     “Oh, well, there goes that,” Randal says.

     “Actually, I’ve been thinking… and I might do it. I really love Veronica, you know? If I have to take some stupid college class to win her back… it seems worth it.”

     “You know, maybe you could take a class or two at the college, Randal,” Rose jumps in. “I mean, it doesn’t have to be like high school, obviously, but maybe you could take like, a film class or something. That would be pretty cool.”

     “I dunno,” Randal says, trailing a hand up and down Rose’s upper arm. “School was never really my scene. Everyone there was such a phony, you know?”

     “College is actually a lot better,” Rose says. “I mean, I obviously won’t force you to do anything, but high school was like a hellfire and college is a bunch of fuck-ups trying to make it in the world. Like, everyone’s on the same page there. Accept for like, a couple of _actual_ adults taking classes even though they already have everything together…”

     “Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard,” Randal says, uninterested.

     “I know you say it’s not your scene, but maybe if you ever wanna stop working at the video store you could take a class or two.”

     “Alright,” Randal says.

     “You get any strange looks on the campus walking around with a basketball under your sweater?” Dante asked.

     “Goddamn I wish it was a basketball,” Rose sighs. “But no, not really. Everyone there is an adult and a lot of the women have been pregnant before, so it’s not like in high school where you’re walking down the hall and everyone and their mom’s like ‘holy _shit_ is that a pregnant person?’”

     Randal plants a kiss on Rose’s shoulder. “What if you have the baby at school?” he asks.

     “I’m not gonna have the baby at school,” she says. “It doesn’t just pop out. Did you pay attention in health class?”

     “No, I got kicked out ‘cause I kept drawing people having sex in my notebook.”

     “So your addiction to pornography started young.”

     “God, I was a horny little fuck,” Randal says.

     “You know he used to videotape the varsity basketball games to try and fuck a cheerleader?” Dante cuts in.

     “Really?” Rose laughs. “Which one?”

     “Any one.”

     By all accounts, the baby in the womb is healthy. Growing spectacularly, as well. Rose’s stomach has enlarged to the point of discomfort. In her apartment, she wears nothing but a black bra and a pair of maternity shorts, Randal lying to her right on his side.

     “I’ve got a ton of VHS tapes,” Randal says. “All the good ones. I’ve got the _Star Wars_ trilogy box set. You’ll be watching that as soon as you can keep your eyes open long enough. They’re all at my parents’ house, but I’ll get them for you so you never have to go over there and see my chud of a dad. He’s an asshole, we don’t like him. No we don’t, do we? Huh?”

     Rose laughs. “I think he’s coming around to you, Bean.”

     “Bean?” Randal asks.

     “It’s what I call the baby,” Rose says. “They looked like a little bean the first time I went in for an ultrasound. I mean, obviously I’ll have a real name by the time I’m in labor, hopefully. But for now it’s just Bean. And for someone who doesn’t want a baby, you sure do have a lot to say to them.”

     “It’s not a crime for me to talk to my kid,” Randal says. “I doubt my parents ever talked to me when my mom was pregnant. For all I know my mom was smoking joints and popped me out in the back of a van…”

     “I’m not saying you talking to the baby is a bad thing,” Rose says. “I’m just saying it’s a little unlikely given the fact that you had zero interest in wanting a child.”

     “Fair. Doesn’t mean I’m not gonna try. I don’t have to, but this kid is gonna be less fucked up than I am if I can do anything to help it.”

     “Well, that’s nice of you. I’m sure little Bean will appreciate that when they’re old enough.”

     In March, there’s a call at the Quick Stop. Dante answers and Randal looks through a magazine, scouring for something to entertain himself with.

     Dante holds out the phone. “It’s for you,” he says to Randal.

     Randal tosses aside the zine and takes the phone. “What?” he greets.

     “Hey, do you need an excuse to get out of work today?” Rose’s voice comes from the other end of the line.

     “Always,” Randal says.

     “Well, you’re in luck. My water broke.”

     “Your what broke?”

     “My _water_.”

     “What, like your tap water? Do you want me to come fix it or something?”

     “Her _water_ broke?” Dante asks harshly, and Randal waves at him to be quiet.

     Rose is silent for a long period of time before she sighs. “Randal, honey. The water in my stomach that the baby is in. It came out of my body. Like, a lot of it. Like, I’m talking like waterfall level. And it won’t stop.”

     “Oh _shit_ ,” Randal says. “Is that bad? Is the kid alright?”

     She’s silent once again. “Randal I love you so much but you are such a fucking dumbass, I swear to god… I’m in _labor_. I have to go to the hospital and have the baby. Honey, it’s _time_. My water broke.”

     Randal holds the phone to his ear, mouth agape.

     “Randal?” she asks.

     “I’m still here,” he says. “Do you want me to come by the apartment? Do you need someone to drive you?”

     “I’m at school,” she admits.

     Randal sucks in a sharp breath. "At school."

     “Everything's fine. I went to the bathroom and it happened. It should be a while before the baby's actually  _here_. I think I can drive myself.”

     “Okay, I’ll meet you there.”

     Randal hangs up the phone, and for a moment he just stands there. Dante is waiting for him to speak, anxious.

     “Well? Her water broke?”

     “Yeah.”

     “You gonna go to the hospital?”

     “Yeah.”

     Randal continues to stand by the phone, making no indication that he plans to move. Dante sighs before grabbing the phone and calling a cab. When the cab arrives, he ushers Randal in, and tapes a sign to the video store door that reads: ‘STORE IS CLOSED; GIRLFRIEND IN LABOR, GONNA BE A DAD’.

     Randal finds Rose already checked into a room at the hospital, resting on one knee and leaning against the hospital bed, crying out as she contracts. Her hospital gown is hanging loosely around her, knotted in three sloppy bow ties in the back. She has her dark curly hair pulled back away from her face, tears streaking down her cheeks. Randal is unnerved to see her in this state.

     “Rose, do you want me to wait in the hall?”

     “No,” she cries. “Stay here. Please. Don’t leave me alone here.”

     Randal would have much rather waited in the hall. He’s utterly useless in this situation. Rose rests her head on the edge of the bed, breathing in and out rhythmically, her eyes shut tight. When another contraction hits, she balls the sheets in her fists and groans. Randal reaches over and tries rubbing her back.

     “No, no!” she says. “Don’t touch me!” Her arms are trembling. Randal yanks his hand away as if he’s been burned.

     When the nurses arrive in the room to check on her, she won’t move from her crouched position.

     “Well, if you don’t wanna move, you’ll have to spread your legs a little wider,” the nurse instructs. “The baby’s head is ready to be born.”

     This was enough to convince her to relocate to the hospital bed and wait for the doctor.

     “Randal,” she says, and holds out her hand for him to grab. He takes her hand, his eyes wide. “I am never having another baby ever again.”

     “You don’t have to,” Randal promises.

     “Ugh!” Rose cries out, pressing her head against the pillow. “Jesus God, make it stop.”

     The baby emerges slow at first, before falling from his mother and into the doctor’s waiting hands. He flails his arms, scrunches up his face, and wails.

     “It’s a boy!” the doctor announces, and holds up the baby for Rose to see.

     The baby is gray before he breathes, covered in slimy mucus and discharge and blood, his face swollen and wrinkly, his testicles enlarged, his umbilical cord resembling more of a telephone cord. He is hideous; the most disgusting thing Randal has ever seen, and he’s seen a lot of racy and borderline illegal things.

     “Oh my god,” Randal says. He’s aware that Rose is no longer holding his hand, but can only stand and stare in shock.

     The baby is laid on Rose’s chest, and suddenly lots of people are rubbing him with towels and sucking fluids from his mouth and nostrils. Someone hands Randal a pair of scissors and instructs him to cut the baby’s cord, which he does without thinking about. He reflects on how spongy it is later on.

     When the baby is clean and pink and cordless, Randal is able to get a better look at him. He looks much better; he isn’t so hideous after all. Rose holds the baby and pets his head.

     “Oh, I love him, Randal. I love him so much.”

     “We never picked out a name.”

     “I did,” Rose says. “Corey Kurt Graves.”

     “You weren’t gonna ask if I had any ideas?”

     “You can name the baby the next time you get someone pregnant.”

     They develop a system with Corey. During the day, while Rose is at school, Corey stays with Randal. Nights he stays with Rose, and on weekends they both handle him. Randal doesn’t mind Corey staying with him during the day. Most times Corey will simply lay on Randal’s chest, drifting in and out of sleep, whining only when he needs to eat or be changed.

     Corey gets cuter by the day. He’s also content to simply lay on his father’s chest while Randal works at either the video store or the Quick Stop.

     “What’s his name?” an older woman coos at him one day as she rents _Home Alone_.

     “Annoying customer,” Randal answers.

     “Well!” The woman tosses the tape on the counter and promptly leaves.

     Corey takes Randal by surprise—he  _ grows _ , and he grows fast. One day the baby doesn’t fit into the outfit Rose brought him home in. This is unthinkable. He wasn’t born that long ago! Not only that, but Randal enjoys taking care of the baby. Randal Graves, a father? No, that couldn’t be right. But he likes Corey. Corey is soft and warm and cute, and he smells nice. Who wouldn’t want something soft and warm and cute lying on their chest all hours of the day?

     Randal carries Corey out of the video store as he plans to lock up. The two stoner fucks are loitering outside as always.

     “Hey, cute kid,” Jay says as Randal walks by, heading to the Quick Stop.

     “I will call the cops on you,” Randal says without looking in their direction.

     “Jeez,” Jay says, shuffling his feet and turning to Silent Bob. “You believe that guy?”

     Randal enters the Quick Stop for Dante to greet him. “Here comes Randal, he’s a berserker,” Dante sings to an unrecognizable tune.

     Randal attempts to wrangle but can’t do any of the arm motions while he’s holding Corey.

     “Madre is not off school yet,” Randal explains as he reclines behind the counter, the baby snoozing on his chest, unaffected by the change of scenery.

     “You know, if you’d come in here with a baby a year ago I would’ve thought you kidnapped someone’s child.”

     “That’s nice. You gotten laid any time in the last nine months?”

     This shut Dante up. 

     Rose arrives forty-five minutes later and holds her arms out at the sight of Corey. “There’s my baby,” she says in the special maternal voice reserved just for him. “Oh, Momma missed you. Yes, I did.” She lifts Corey from Randal’s chest, and the baby grunts before settling into his mother’s arms.

     “He’s a pretty chill kid,” Randal said. “Hardly ever cries. Makes my life real easy.”

     “Well, that’s because he’s the best baby ever,” Rose says, though this is directed at Corey himself.

     Rose is still in recovery for the most part. Her stomach, which had ballooned during pregnancy, was gradually beginning to shrink. She was still in quite a bit of pain from the delivery, so that had left Randal staring at magazines and masturbating until she was fully healed. He doesn’t complain—he figures if something that large had exited his genitals he’d want a minute to recuperate as well.

     At home, Corey spends most of his time in a bouncy seat staring at the ceiling fan. He gets talked to and held and kissed, but mostly he’s pretty tired and sleeps. His hair grows in blond, which is a shocker to Rose given how dark her hair is. Randal’s hair falls somewhere between blond and light brown, so it’s not too much of a stretch to believe he inherited some of his father’s DNA.

     Just for the hell of it, Randal decides to take a summer class at the college with Dante. Criminology. Not like he’ll ever do anything with that knowledge, but it’s a way to kill time while he’s away from Rose and Corey and not watching movies at the video store. Dante seems a little more serious about it… Veronica was happy to learn he actually had some ambition buried under several layers of pathetic self-loathing. Taking the class had made Rose happy, even if she knew he wasn’t going to make something of it.

     When the summer class is finished, so is Randal’s time at college. In August he goes home to his girlfriend and five-month-old, who is somehow holding his own bottle and smiling at everyone he encounters.

     “Impossible,” Randal says to Corey. “There’s no way you’re five months old. It’s blasphemous.”

     Corey responds with a slew of infant noises, and then laughs.

     “No,” Randal says. “No way. You were born yesterday.”

     Rose bounces the baby on her lap. “My parents always said they’d put a brick on my head to stop me from growing,” she laughed. “I always thought it was dumb until Corey was born. He’s getting big way too fast.”

     “Oh, yeah. We should really start packing for college. He’ll be leaving before we know it.”

     Little Corey starts to cry in the night when small pearly whites begin to protrude from his gums. Rose and Randal take turns sitting at the table with the groaning baby in their lap, holding a chilled teething ring, heads lolling side to side as they try to stop themselves from falling asleep. 

     At the video store, Randal falls asleep with Corey on his chest. An older man is so upset by this he goes next door to Dante to complain.

     “That son of a bitch is sleeping over there!” The man yells.

     “I’m sure he’s not sleeping,” Dante says. “He’s probably just resting his eyes.”

     “He’s fucking snoring!” The man flails his arms, steam practically coming from his ears. “And who in the hell brings their kid to work with them, anyway? It’s downright unprofessional!”

     The old man says this as if Randal has ever once been professional while working at the video store.

     For Halloween, Rose dresses Corey as a pumpkin. Randal has to work, not that he actually cares when he has to work, but Rose is pretty adamant about him showing up for the baby’s sake. Randal puts on a scary movie for background and deals with whichever customers decide to curse him with their presence. Most are looking for horror movies to rent, and in Randal’s opinion most horror movies aren’t made to be enjoyed so much as they’re made to be made fun of. Bunch of savages… with no taste in film, either.

     Two weeks away from his first birthday, Corey says his first word. His first word isn’t ‘mama’ or ‘dada’ or ‘hi’ or something normal—no, Corey’s first word is ‘fuck’. He’s gotten big enough to walk around, and so naturally when Randal brings the baby into the Quick Stop he builds a makeshift playpen out of cereal boxes, tossing in a few colorful, rattling toys to keep the boy entertained with.

     “Hey, there’s a kid back here!” A customer says to Randal, who is sitting behind the counter with a newspaper.

     “Please step away from the child,” Randal says without looking up.

     “Who’s watching this kid? Somebody really oughta be—”

     “I said step away from the kid, pervert.”

     “Well! I’m never coming here again!” The customer storms off.

     Dante sighs and rests his head in his hands. “For once,” he says. “Could you for  _ once  _ consider being nice to the customers?”

     “Hey, pal, I dunno what you’re talking about. That perv was getting too close to my kid, and I asked him to step away nicely.” Randal flips the page in the newspaper.

     The entrance bell dings as Jay and Silent Bob enter the Quick Stop, Jay attempting to do what appears to be a cross between walking and dancing. As he does this, he’s chanting a sort of rap:

     “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Mother mother fuck! Mother mother fuck fuck! Motherfuck motherfuck, noich noich noich!”

     “What do you want?” Dante asks.

     “Can I get a pack of smokes and a couple of twinkies?” Jay asks, halting his dance.

     As Jay lays some cash down on the counter and Dante digs for a pack of smokes, a small voice speaks from the aisle closest to Randal’s field of vision:

     “Fuck!”

     Randal lifts his eyes from the paper to see angelic little Corey standing near one of the cereal box barriers, a smile on his face. He wobbles from foot to foot. “Fuck!” he says again.

     “Yo, little man is talking now!” Jay says, and nods at Corey. “Good for you, lil’ dude!”

     Calm, Randal folds the newspaper across his lap before pressing his fingertips into the bridge of his nose. “I hate you, Jay,” Randal says. “I hate you so much.”

     Randal says all kinds of things to Corey for the rest of the day. “Say ‘mama’,” he says, leaning over the counter. “Say ‘dada’. Say ‘no’. Say something other than that, please. Your mother is gonna kill me.”

     “Fuck.”

     “Oh, god.”

     Rose is less than please when Randal enters the apartment carrying Corey and the first thing out of the boy’s mouth is ‘fuck’.

     “Randal,” she starts.

     “It wasn’t me, I swear. One of the stoners came in the Quick Stop saying it over and over.”

     “ _ Why  _ was Corey around the stoners?”

     “I can’t control when they come in the store!”

     “Well I sure as hell hope they weren’t smoking anything around him!”

     “You can’t smoke in the Quick Stop, they know that!”

     Corey, as much as Randal and Rose love him, has put a strain on their relationship. They haven’t done anything remotely sexual since Rose had given Randal a blowjob when Corey was a few months old. He crawls into bed with them at night and keeps them busy during the day. He requires all their attention. He’s another mouth to feed.

     “You know, maybe you should get another job,” Rose says one day.

     “You want me to get a second job?” Randal asks, repulsed.

     “Not a second job, a different job. One that pays a little better. Maybe one where you don’t have to deal with people so much.”

     Randal doesn’t even consider this. Rose has finished school, and she has a job as a counselor at the local high school. They’re both bringing in money. Why would he want to give up the job at the video store? Customers aside, it’s a job where he gets to sit on his ass and watch movies all day, and when he feels like it he can pop next door and see his best friend. It was like the perfect definition of a dream job.

     “I just feel like you’re not  _ trying _ ,” Rose says after Corey is asleep.

     “I’m going to work, aren’t I? I’m bringing money home, aren’t I?” he counters.

     “I know that, but I can’t help but feel like you’ve resigned yourself to this. You took what, one class at the college and then quit? Are you just planning on working at the video store for the rest of your life?”

     “If I can help it.”

     “It’s just—it’s not a grown up job, it’s somewhere a teenager should work during the summer. Randal, we have a  _ baby _ , and he’s only gonna get more expensive the bigger he gets. We have to do better for him. Both of us, we have to do better.”

     “God,” he says. “We never would’ve had this conversation while we were still fucking.”

     “Well, you know what?” Her voice is suddenly quiet. “I’m sorry I’m not the same person I was two years ago. I’m sorry I carried your fucking child and became a mother because  _ you  _ talked me out of getting an abortion—do you remember that, how you talked me out of—”

     “I did  _ not  _ talk you out of—”

     “You  _ did _ , you absolutely did—”

     “You could’ve done whatever you wanted!”

     “Well, I didn’t feel like I had much choice! You think I planned on getting pregnant while I was still in college? You think I planned on falling in love with the smart ass slacker who worked at the  _ video store _ ? You were never supposed to be anything other than a fucking one-night stand, and I fell in love with you! And now look where we are!” She throws her arms in the air only to let them fall back to her sides, the palms of her hand slapping her hips.

     “You act like you’re the only one who had plans!” he says. “I never wanted kids! I would’ve happily lived my life hypothetically entertaining the idea of what it would be like to have a kid, and then I’d stop and think, ‘God, I’m so fucking glad I never got anyone pregnant’! I was twenty-two years old, I just wanted to get laid! I met a girl who could make me come without even touching me, what kind of fucking white whale is that? Do you think we would even be here if you hadn’t gotten pregnant?”

     This is what stops Rose. She stares at Randal, dumbfounded, unable to speak. “God,” she says, shaking her head. “You really are an asshole.”

     That’s where it ends. Or at least, that’s where it becomes clear that things won’t go any further. Randal leaves the apartment and returns to his parents’ house. He spends the summer there and hears not a word from Rose nor Corey until he receives a call in August.

     “What?” he answers.

     “Randal,” Rose says.

     Randal pauses. “Rose.”

     “I’m gonna stop by the video store tonight,” she says. “So you can see Corey.”

     “Do whatever you want,” he says.

     “Alright. I will.”

     She hangs up. Randal places the phone back on the hook.

     When the sun is sinking in the evening, Rose passes by the video store window, Corey in her arms. The boy is groggy, though waggles his fingers at Randal when he sees him.

     “Da-da,” he says.

     “Hey, buddy,” Randal says.

     Rose looks at Randal for a moment. “Hey,” she says.

     Randal pauses. “Hey.”

     She bounces Corey in her arms, averting her eyes from Randal. “I just wanted you to see him,” she says. “He missed you.”

     “I missed him.”

     Rose is quiet again for a moment. Finally, she opens her mouth to speak again. “I got a job in Rhode Island.”

     There’s no room for input. It’s not an invitation—she’s only telling him so he’ll know. And even though it’s clear that the relationship is over, he can’t help but feel an ache in his chest, because part of him does love her still. He’ll never say it again, he’s sure, but he knows that part is there.

     “Okay.”

     “We leave tomorrow morning,” she says, and bounces the baby once again. “Corey and me.”

     That’s why she was here. She was saying goodbye. In the back of his mind, Randal remembers a time when she promised to never leave him, but that was a different time. Too much had changed to go around keeping old promises.

     Corey falls asleep on Rose’s shoulder, and when the last customer has gone, Randal grabs his keys. Rose is out the door before he is, waiting on the sidewalk where the stoners usually deal in front of the store. He turns away from her and sticks the key in the lock.

     “Randal,” Rose says and bites her lip. She adjusts her grip on Corey, the baby’s head lolling on her shoulder as he sleeps.

     “Yeah?” Randal says. He doesn’t look up from locking up the store.

     “I know things weren’t always good with us,” she starts. “But look what we got from it.” She shifts her gaze to Corey, whose lips pucker as his cheek presses against his mother’s shoulder. “Look at him, Randal. He’s beautiful! We  _ made  _ this. And even after all this, I wouldn’t change a second of it. If I had the chance to do it over again, I don’t think I could bring myself to change any of it. The thing is, Randal…” Her eyes fall to the pavement. “I don’t think you’d do the same. Even after everything we went through, I’m not sure you’d choose this life with us.” She looks up at Randal, tears welling in her eyes despite her efforts to blink them away. “Would you do it again? Would you choose this?”

     Randal pauses, sliding his hands into his pockets. He looks at little Corey, clad in his banana yellow overalls and robin’s egg shirt, sleeping so content in his mother’s arms. His heart swells, aches. “You know what?” Randal says. “I would.”

     He reaches out and strokes his son’s blond hair before letting his hand fall to his side. He nods.

     “I would.”

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, this was much longer than I intended. And more serious than I intended... regardless, I hope you enjoyed it.


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